Repercussions
by 3iris
Summary: Fallout from Castle's unauthorized investigation of Kate's mother's murder, and both of their reactions. I know, it took me long enough, right?
1. Chapter 1

_"It's about your mother."_

Before the words ever had a chance to leave my mouth, I regretted the inevitability of the situation I found myself in. My words were a cheap shot. She revealed her weak spot to me, and I exploited it. She trusted me with a bit of insight into her past, and I betrayed that trust. I was so eager to prove to her my worth as an investigator, and as a friend, I did the one thing that she warned would render me useless to her.

Kate took a step back, wedging an invisible barrier between us. Her eyes searched mine for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds in reality. I hurt her. It was apparent in her confused scrutiny of me. She didn't have to speak to ask the question that was evident to me in her eyes. _When I told you we would be done, didn't that matter to you?_

I could not let her believe that. I could not believe that she would believe that. I had to make her understand that if she would have given me that ultimatum before the proverbial ball was already in motion, I would have dropped it. I would have returned the file to it's safe place. It would always be there to address another time, on her terms. I would not have put our partnership, our friendship, on the line.

I thought I saw unshed tears in her eyes, before she averted them, and picked a spot on the floor to examine. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and I hoped she would at least hear me out. I knew I didn't have much time. Kate Beckett was not going to let me see her cry.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't change anything." I hated the way my voice sounded. Even I could hear the desperation in my voice, but the truth was, I was desperate to make her understand.

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around her wrist, letting her know I had more to say. She flinched at my touch, but never brought her eyes back up to meet mine. I could tell she was preparing to dismiss me. She took another step back, and let her wrist and hand slide through mine. Determined to buy more time, I caught her fingers before they completely slipped through my hand.

"Kate, please, just give me a chance to explain."

"I don't see what is left to explain, Rick." Her tone was cold and distant, and the use of my first name seemed mocking instead of reassuring. "I thought I made myself clear." She shook her hand free of mine, and raked both of her hands through her hair. She started to say something else, but instead turned her back, and took a deep breath before she walked away.

* * *

_**This was a short chapter, but it felt like a good place to stop. I will be out of town for a few days, but Chapter 2 is finished, and will be up on Sunday. Enjoy and review...please!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so sorry that it took me this long to post this chapter. It has been written for weeks, but I haven't had time to post. You know how it is sometimes.... I just got finished reading the 22 new chapters I had story alert emails on, and haven't had a chance to read until now. I guess you could say I am on a Castle binge today. So here is the latest chapter....and an additional one too since you have been so patient. :)**

* * *

Kate stepped quietly back into Will's hospital room. Will noticed the change in Kate's demeanor immediately. She seemed deflated, guarded. "Hey, are you OK? What did the writer monkey want?" It was unclear whether the huge smile on his face could be attributed to the fact that Kate was back at his side, or the fact that she had obviously had a falling out with the author.

Kate held her chin up and willed the tears to stay in check until she could sort out her feelings alone. "Yeah. I'm fine." She smiled, and sat back down in the chair next to Will's bed. "Castle? He had some new evidence on a case he's been looking into."

She looked at the wires and tubes and various machines snaking around Will's bed, and realized how selfish she was being. Will could have died. He could have died trying to help her and Castle with their investigation. Will could have died, and all she could think about was how Richard Castle placed less value on their friendship than he did about digging up an interesting past for Nikki Heat.

"You really don't seem fine. You seem a little . . . on edge."

"It's been a really long night, Will, and an even longer morning." She took a deep breath, and ran her fingers through her hair, noting that her hands were still shaking, and hoping Will would not notice. She pasted on her most genuine faux smiles. "Which reminds me, I was about to go home and shower and change. I'll smuggle you some real food in when I come back this afternoon."

"I'm just saying you were fine before he showed up . . . laughing, talking about allowing sprinkles back into your life. Did the two of you have a fight?" He knew he was pushing, but he had to know what he was up against.

She felt her smile dim a little, and her voice was not quite as detached as she would have liked. "We don't really fight. He oversteps his boundaries, and I have to remind him that this is the real world, not fiction."

"That sounds like a fight to me."

"It's more complicated than that."

"I can see that he let you down. I am familiar with that look. I've been on the giving end of it before. I knew what I was doing when I let you down. I'm not proud of it, in fact, it's one of my biggest regrets. I'm just wondering if he even knows that he means enough to you to have the power to hurt you."

She looked up at him, surprised that he had read her so well. Gathering up her coat, she turned to leave the room, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in on her. "I'll call you later."

She barely made it out of the room and closed the door before she felt the warmth of tears that refused to be held back any longer.


	3. Chapter 3

I felt my mother hovering over my body, and wondered what she was doing. She was not usually one to pick and choose her words carefully. "Yesterday's clothes, darling? I take it things did not go well with your detective."

I did not feel the necessity to get up and acknowledge her, or even to remove the pillow that was covering my face. This was mostly her fault after all. I felt the cushions shift at the end of the sofa, and realized she was not leaving, and I was in for another dose of motherly advice.

"You know you did the right thing."

I shook my head in disagreement, toppling the pillow that was previously residing over my face. "If you would have seen the look on her face, you wouldn't be so sure about that." I stared up at the ceiling, cringing at the memory of Kate staring back at me looking completely betrayed.

"You knew what you had to do. You wanted to do what was right. The fact that I reminded you of what you already knew does not make this my fault."

I sat up, wondering absently what time it was. "She ended up hurt. How can that be the right thing?"

"You did what you did with good intentions. She knows that. She is not hurt because you tried to help solve her mother's murder. She is hurt because she thinks you did it regardless of the fact that it would end your . . . association." I noted that she rolled her eyes, and waived her hand dismissively, not happy with her choice of words. I knew how she felt. I had a hard time defining exactly what Kate Beckett and myself were to each other. Friends? Partners? More? Less? I shook myself out of my reverie, and realized mother was not finished. "How can you be so dense when the leading men you write can be so insightful and intuitive, so in tune with their feminine side?"

"Derek Storm does not have a feminine side, Mother. Besides, wasn't it you that told me I should never try to figure out what's in a woman's head, because I would only get it wrong?"

"Did you get it wrong, dear? I think you understand Kate Beckett a little too much. More than you want to admit."


	4. Chapter 4

Alexis burst through the door to her father's office, and caught him leaning back in his chair, his feet on his desk, his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling. The TV was on in the corner, but their was no sound. She placed her hands on her hips, and scolded him. "Gran says you are pining. Can't I leave you alone for one weekend? What did you do now?"

"What makes you think I've done anything wrong?" He raised his head off the chair, and an eyebrow at his daughter, who was sometimes too mature for her years. "Pining?"

"Because you are moping, and Gran says you haven't talked to Detective Beckett in three days. Just go talk to her. Since when are you afraid of a little confrontation?"

He scrubbed his hands down his face, scratching the three day growth of beard that grew there. "It's not confrontation that worries me. It's banishment. I figure if I lay low for a while, she will realize that what I did was not entirely selfish, and mostly in her best interest."

Alexis came closer, and shoved her father's feet off his desk, catapulting him forward in his chair to an upright position. He caught himself and maintained his balance by bracing his hands against his desk. Alexis leaned against it in front of him, studying her father carefully. "Don't you miss her?" She knew that her father was interested in Kate. His eyes clouded, and she realized that moment that his interest in Kate was in a different league from the _interest_ he has had in other women. He looked so tired. He looked worried and pale and listless. He looked heartbroken. She had never seen him in that condition. "Dad, are you OK?"

"I'm great, Pumpkin." He still had a faraway look in his eyes, and she was afraid he was going to cry. That idea really scared her, because she didn't think she had ever seen her father cry. "Yes, I miss her. Have you ever lost something, and not realized how cool it was until you couldn't find it? How much it had become an integral part of your life, yet you never realized how much life would suck without it? How. . ."

"Dad, I'm 15. Unless you are talking about my iPod, or the new phone you got me with the QWERTY keyboard, you've lost me." She stood up, and reached out for her fathers hand, dragging him away from his desk, and across the room to the cozy sofa that was surrounded by bookshelves. She leaned into him, still holding his hand. "Dad, you seriously need to get a grip. You have _finally_ figured out that you love her. So you hurt her. . . so what? She has to know on some level that you didn't do it intentionally."

"But the point is, I did hurt her. Nothing good came out of anything I did."

"Dad, hello! What about catching her mom's murderer after ten years. That would be pretty good, right? Aren't you even going to try to explain your reasons to her? That is so not like you. You have the ability to pester, annoy, or sweet talk anybody into seeing things your way."

"She's not answering her phone. She doesn't want the information. She doesn't want to talk to me at all."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and go to her. Make her understand why you did it, and you also might want to tell her that you love her. I'm thinking that could make a huge difference."

He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling again. "Right, huge difference." He closed his eyes, and shook his head dramatically. "Please stop reminding me that I love her. That was definitely _not_ part of our agreement. If I tell her, she is going to kick my ass."

"Dad, seriously, if she didn't love you, she wouldn't be hurt in the first place." Alexis stood up, and kissed her father on the forehead. "Now, get your sorry butt over there, and be a pain in the ass until she forgives you." She pulled the door closed, leaving him alone in his study.


	5. Chapter 5

Kate closed her door behind her softly, and leaned against it, closing her eyes and realizing how thankful she was that another day was over. She never used to feel this way about her work, and she wasn't about to connect it with the absence of one Richard Castle from what had become her daily routine. She thought to herself that it had not even been a week. Maybe they just needed a new case to get everyone's focus back on work.

She heard a soft sound, somebody clearing their throat, and her eyes darted over to the figure sitting on her sofa, nervously trying to get her attention. Alexis looked up at Kate nonchalantly. "You look really tired, almost as tired as my dad."

"Oh God. Alexis, you scared me." Kate dropped her keys on the table, along with the stack of files she was holding. "What are you doing here? How . . . "

Alexis looked rather proud of herself. "Dad showed me how to do it. I mean, not how to break into your place specifically. He doesn't know I'm here. He would kill me." She held up a credit card and a tiny flashlight. "It's actually pretty easy. You really should use your deadbolt."

"Alexis, I don't understand. Why would you break into my apartment? You could call first, you know, let me know you're coming? Or you could even drop by, and just knock on the door like a normal person." She took off her coat and scarf, taking the extra time to pull herself back together as she hung the items on the coat rack. She even managed a small smile.

"I did try to call. You didn't answer. I figured you were screening my dad's calls. I didn't know if you would answer if I came by 'like a normal person'."

She regarded her friends daughter quietly for a moment, wondering at the similarities between the two. She definitely inherited her direct approach from her father. "You and your father share a flare for the unexpected."

Alexis sensed a wistfulness to Kate's words. "It's annoying, but you kind of get used to having it around. Weird, right? Do you miss him?"

"Yes, I do." Her words were spoken sincerely and quietly. Alexis could see the same hopelessness in her eyes that she saw in her father's.

"Wow, that was easy. It took dad three days to admit he is miserable without you. Not that it is not painfully obvious, the way he shuffled around in his bathrobe, watching bad TV, and refusing to shave."

"You are exaggerating."

"Barely." Alexis giggled. "OK, maybe he's not really wearing his bathrobe, but he feels terrible about what happened. He really needs to talk to you."

Kate walked around the sofa, and sat down next to Alexis. "You can tell him that I agree. We do need to talk, just not yet. I have been doing a lot of thinking, and things are not going back to how they were. I just don't know what that means right now."

"How are you going to figure it out if you don't talk to him about it?"

"Alexis, I am not ready for that yet." Kate tucked her hair behind her ear, and considered her choice of words carefully. "It's complicated. I feel like whatever we have is fragile, because we don't really discuss what we want and expect from each other, and we don't really discuss where it's going. Something has changed, but it's hard to put my finger on what it is. I just know that I've suddenly realized that maybe our friendship is not as important as I thought. Maybe other things have taken precidence."

"Wouldn't it be a lot less complicated and confusing if you just told him why you feel hurt and ask him how he feels about you?"

Kate laughed nervously. "Alexis, I've obviously told you way more than you need to know about my inner turmoils. Please, don't mention. . ."

"Your secret is safe with me."


	6. Chapter 6

"I've been told by several unnamed sources that I have slacked off on my usual level of persistence, and that I should come over here and insist that you hear me out." He pulled himself up from his sitting position in front of the main entrance of Kate's building, and brushed off the accumulation of dust that he had acquired over the past hour and a half of waiting on her doorstep.

She hadn't moved since she noticed it was him loitering in front of her building. He cautiously took a step toward her instead. "You don't have to say anything. Just hear me out, please. We can even talk out here. Just a warning, though. If you walk past me, I'm planning on following you inside, and camping out in front of your door."

She tilted her head to study him. She already knew he would make good on his threat, but she could see that he was nervous, and that's what scared her. She didn't know if she was ready to explore what was behind all the tension between them.

"That would be trespassing. Do I need to remind you that I carry a gun?"

He smiled at the familiar banter, and at the minuscule smile that he could just barely detect behind her carefully masked features. "No need. I'll take my chances."

She walked around him, up the steps, and swiped her key to let herself in the front door of her building. She hesitated a moment on the other side before she let go of the door, letting it swing closed slowly. She didn't slow her pace as she heard him easily catch the door before it met it's frame. She proceeded to the elevator, hearing his footsteps behind her.

Castle grinned at her as he slid into the elevator beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder. "What floor do you need?"

Kate reached around him and punched the correct button, a little too forcefully, much to Castle's entertainment. There was a heavy silence as the doors slid closed.

"Alexis said you missed me."

"Did she tell you she broke in to my apartment?"

"She did mention that. She's a quick learner. I'll have to ask her how she got into your building, because I tried and couldn't do it."

"You should be proud." Sarcasm dripped from her words, but she still wouldn't look at him.

"You're changing the subject. We were talking about missing me."

"No, we weren't."

He sighed, and held up his hands in surrender, deciding there was no time like the present. "I am not disputing that what I did was wrong. I just want to make you understand that when I took your mother's file, it was never with the intention of hurting you. I just thought I could help. That's it. I swear. I knew that I had resources available to me that maybe you didn't have back then."

"I told you what it did to me, what I was afraid of. I thought I made it clear that this is not fodder for your new character. This is my life, Castle. It may not mean anything more than chapter 24 of your latest book to you, but it's real to me."

"What?" The elevator doors opened, and he took her arm. "_Whoa._ Just a minute. You don't think . . . "

He had never even considered that she would contribute his motives to enhancing his new character, and thus his book sales. He could see that a part of her believed it, and she was struggling with the idea that he had used her in such a blatant manner.

"You _do_ think that's why I did what I did. Unbelievable." He was more scared now than ever, and found himself growing irritated. He didn't know if it was directed at her, for misreading his intentions and his feelings for her, or for himself, for not making his intentions clear and muddying an already volatile situation.

She turned, and stood facing him, ready to defend her reasoning. His fingers were still wrapped lightly around her forearm. "Why else would you . . ."

Kate moved forward to step out onto her floor, and he let her arm slide free through his fingers. For once, he found himself rendered speechless, but before she had taken more than a few steps, he decided to follow her. "Are you implying that I have to have a selfish motive to do a favor for somebody I care about?"

"What am I supposed to think? You are here with me, every day, for no other reason than to find inspiration for your book."

"We both know that hasn't been true for a long time, but let's say it is. Let us say that the only reason I hang around, other than my warped interest for the macabre, is to gain some insight into Nikki Heat. That bothers you?"

"Aside from her name, it didn't use to. If you must know, I found it flattering." She met his eyes briefly, and saw him soften at the revelation. She looked away from him, gathering her thoughts.

He recaptured her attention by reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers brush lightly over her cheekbone. His fingers came to rest on her jawbone, and he stroked his thumb across her chin, tipping her face up even with his. "And now?"

Kate felt her heartbeat quicken with the unexpected intimacy of his touch, and the anxious emotions playing across his features. She liked the feel of his warm slightly calloused hand on her skin. She thought for a minute how she had previously assumed his hands would have the softness that comes with regular manicures. She liked the reality better. She forced herself to get a grip, and mentally shook herself for letting her mind wonder. Her words tumbled out before she gave a thought to how he would interpret them. "Now? I find it unsettling, confusing . . . "

"What is it that has taken me from flattering to intrusive? What's changed?" His voice was barely a whisper. He never took his eyes off hers, and she found it extremely distracting when paired with the sensation of his thumb stroking the line of her jaw.

She took a step back, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, pleading softly as she felt her walls begin to crumble. "Don't. Just. . . don't. I'm going inside now."

"We need to finish this discussion. It might as well be now." He watched her carefully, giving her the space she requested as she took a few more steps away from him. "You did bring it up. . ."

"What? Me? You know what? Fine. I don't know if you are going to like what I have to say, though."

He could see something, determination maybe, flashing in her eyes, along with unshed tears, and a hint of fear. He thought to himself that he had a feeling there was nothing about this conversation that he was not going to like. "Bring it on." His gut twisted, and he didn't know if it was anticipation, or guilt that things have been left unsaid as long as they have. He motioned for her to lead the way.

She unlocked her apartment door, and let him go in ahead of her as she flipped on lights. He slowly took in the things she surrounded herself with, realizing he had never been in her apartment before. As she shed her coat, and took his, he stopped at a wall unit that was filled with books and framed photographs and other personal items. She didn't waste any time getting down to the subject at hand.

"My expectations changed. Maybe it's my fault, because I didn't warn you. Somewhere along the line, I stopped wanting to be your Nikki Heat. I want you in my life, as a friend, maybe more, but I have to know that it's going to be as Kate Beckett. It is exhausting to always wonder if the things we say or do are going to end up being attributed to Nikki in a chapter of your book. I know we had an agreement, but I can't do it anymore."

He felt a thrill shiver through him at the anticipation of an up and up, on the level, heart to heart discussion, or maybe it was the chill of fear of actually making an honest confession. It was time for truths to be known, but he decided he would let her go first. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I never expected to care about you, or wonder about your feelings toward me, but I do. I need to know if your interest is genuine, or just a genuine interest in enhancing Nikki."


	7. Chapter 7

Richard Castle looked back toward her door, the same door he just sweet talked his way into, and then nervously back at Kate, pausing to consider her reaction. "I need to get something from my apartment. You'll let me back in, right? You're not going to leave me out there on the steps all night?"

She looked at him, bewildered, wondering if he had heard any of what she just said. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"I swear," He held up his fingers in a close representation of the boy scout oath, as he inched his way to the door. "It's very pertinant to this discussion." As he backed out of her door, leaving a stunned Kate standing in the middle of her living room, he mouthed, "20 minutes."

* * *

Twenty-two minutes later, Kate let him back in without a word, rolling her eyes as he squeezed by her. She gestured to a small bag he was trying unsuccessfully to hide behind his back. "What'cha got there? Is that what was so 'pertinant'?"

He cursed inwardly. She was mocking him now. She knew that the ball was in his court, and she was not planning on making it easy on him. He admitted to himself, but had no intention of revealing to her, that he probably deserved her mocking.

"It's a gift. For you."

She looked at him uncertainly, shifting from one foot to the other. "I assure you, that was not necessary. A simple answer to my question would have been sufficient."

"I know, and I assure you, I am not trying to be quirky, although sometimes it just happens, but you will hopefully understand when you see what it is."

"So? Are you going to let me see what it is?"

"Not yet. Again, not trying to be quirky, it's just, I'm not ready yet. I have to explain something first." He started pacing, and she finally shut the door, deadbolted it, and motioned for him to sit.

He chose one end of the couch, placing the bag carefully on the floor in front of him, and she sat across from him, on the upholstered ottoman. Her patience, and her tollerance level, was wearing thin. "So you wanted to say something? Like why you didn't explain whatever it is before you ran out to get my _surprise_?" She tucked one foot under her, and leaned forward.

"What are you? Ten? I said it was a _gift_. I gift between colleagues, a professional incentive, if you will." He knew he was grinning, and that it didn't help his exterior, which he was trying to keep cool at the moment, but he couldn't help it, and neither could she.

"I just want to clarify. Clear the air. Make sure we are on the same page. I follow you because I want to, because I enjoy it. It's as simple as that, but I know you need more than that." He paused a moment to look at her, make sure she was paying attention. He knew that she was going to have to read between the lines, and get his indirect meaning, or else he would have to do the unthinkable. He would actually have to look her in the eyes, and admit that the reason he follows her around is because he adores her. The fact that it also helps his writing is just icing on the cake. Admitting the truth to himself, it all started making sense. He could explain his feelings to her . . . if he had to.

"Castle, your eyes are glazing over. Are you still with me?"

"Yes. I'm just saying, I don't want to be one of those people. People are so jaded. It's easy to fall into the trap of expecting the worst out of everybody. When I am with you, I remember that not everybody's motives are selfish, that there are people out there who do what they do because it is the right thing to do. You are a crusader for all those families out there who have lost somebody and think that nobody cares and that nobody wants answers. I don't think it's fair that you have provided answers to all of those families, but you have never received the closure you deserve. That's why I wanted to use my resources to help you. My only motive was justice. . . and you're unwavering awe and respect, which I knew was a dicey expectation at best."

She stared at him cautiously for a moment. "Nice. . ."

"Don't give me the 'nice speech' line. I meant every word I said. There is something else I want to make sure you understand, something I should have made myself clear from the start. Nikki has never been made up of the things you share with me -- conversations, experiences, jokes, ex-boyfriends, under the table gambling. . .whatever. I consider those things private, and you will never see those things become part of Nikki."

She didn't want to admit, even to herself, what a relief his words were. There were still some things she didn't understand, and that she wasn't prepared to let herself completely believe. "I will be convinced of that when you're book is finished and I can see it for myself."

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." He scooped the bag up from the floor, and held it out to her. She raised an eyebrow, and looked at him suspiciously. "See for yourself."

Kate skeptically pulled the freshly printed copy of _Heat Wave_ from the tasteful gift bag, turning it from front to back. "What is this? It's finished?"

"It's the only printed copy. Everything is on hold until you give it the 'all clear'."

"How long has it been finished?" She was clearly excited, but trying her best to hide it.

"Several weeks. June. I know. You're probably wondering why I didn't tell you . . . "

"June? It's been finished for two months? Why _didn't_ you tell me?" She turned it over in her hands again.

"It wasn't the right time. Just read it. You'll understand." He looked at her carefully, wondering if she really would understand.

"Now? With you here?"

He only nodded his head. "It would be an understatement to say that I am anxious for your opinion." He opened the book to the dedication page and layed it open in front of her.


	8. Chapter 8

_This book is dedicated to Kate, _

_my best friend and Nikki's inspiration._

_I tried to do Kate justice, and make Nikki shine_

_with her beauty, intelligence, strength, and dedication._

_I quickly realized that Nikki will always _

_pale in comparison to the original._

Kate finished reading the tiny chapter once, then read it again, hoping he wouldn't notice. She tried to avoid looking at him, because she knew she would blush, or break out in a face splitting grin, or both. She decided to make light of it. "Gees, Castle, laying it on kind of thick aren't you?"

"Not at all. That is the only paragraph in the book that is completely non-fiction. Seriously, do you think I would risk being interrogated by my agent and my publisher, not to mention my mother and Alexis, if it wasn't the truth?"

Kate had always believed that Castle was one of those people that you could read like an open book just by looking at his face. His words may not always tell the whole story, but his eyes and expressions are very revealing, which she found very ironic, considering his occupation. She finally looked up at him, searching his eyes, hoping to put everything into perspective. As soon as their eyes met, she could tell he was hoping for the same thing. He reached out to her with his eyes, and she almost felt guilty for wanting him to admit what she needed to hear. "I'm sure your publisher loves it when you pander to your fans, especially the lonely, romance-starved crazies."

"I was only pandering to you on that page." I meant it sincerely, but realized immediately, and belatedly, that the words came out all wrong. "Owww. That's totally not how I meant it." I rubbed my arm where a red spot was already forming from her sucker punch, but I couldn't help but laugh. "Honest. I meant what I said, I mean what I wrote . . . because it's how I feel, about you. This really is not coming out right."

She closed the book and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. I decided, finally, that I had enough of her teasing and baiting. She had an eyebrow raised in my direction, waiting for me to keep digging myself out of the hole I dug myself. "Aren't you supposed to be better at this? I mean, stringing words together to make sentences, isn't that your self-proclaimed skill?"

I matched her stance, leaning forward, so our noses were almost touching. "That is far from being my only skill, but if it were, it would be pretty useless in this situation. You see, it's easy to string pretty words together, if you have the power to make them effective, to be able to write the question and the answer, the proposal and the acceptance. When I write something, I already know what the outcome will be."

"It must be nice to be able to throw a punch, and be certain that you will be able to duck when it is returned."

I was so close I could feel her breath against my face. "Exactly, but in this case, it wouldn't necessarily be a punch. . ."

She continued as though I never said anything. "But on the other hand, everyone needs a certain amount of uncertainty. You wouldn't want to get too predictable. Where is the fun in always knowing what is going to happen?"

I leaned in even closer. "I knew you had a little throw-caution-to-the-wind in you, Detective." At this distance, I was close enough to realize several things. She is having fun, and she is happy, and she has tiny silver flicks in her eyes that make her eyes sparkle when she laughs, or when she is trying to keep from laughing. The stress that she carries around with her at work is gone. Knowing that I played a part, however small, in lessening her tension and lightening her day, makes me dangerously content, leading me to realize that this is all I want, Kate close by and happy and waiting for me to kiss her.

I reached out and put my hand under her chin, brushing my thumb across her lips. Her eyes closed for a moment and she pulled back a bit. She looked at me and blinked, shock and surprise evident in her eyes. Then she smiled at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. I took her face in my hand, momentarily distracted by her soft skin, and her uneven breathing.

"You've made me think tonight, about the way I write, and the way I live my life. I've never given much thought to how my decisions effect others. I wanted to be the hero, solve the big mystery, impress the girl. I didn't think about the downside. When I am in charge of the story, I just write everybody happy, relieved, proud, satisfied. . . I realize that I interfered, and that I hurt you, but if it were my story, it wouldn't have happened that way. I had a much more heroic and insightful version in my head." She tilted her head to the side, rubbing her cheek against my palm. "Are we really going to do this?"

"Maybe . . . if you quit talking long enough." Her hands went up to cover mine. "I know you meant well. That's what matters."

"So . . . I'm forgiven then?"

"Yes."

"So . . . You still want me to kiss you?"

"Who said I ever wanted that?" Her eyes told me a different story. Her voice was barely a whisper.

I let one of my hands slide into her hair, and pulled her closer, eliminating the last of the inches between us. I touched my lips to her briefly, just a slight brush, charged with electricity. I looked at her face, which was still turned up to mine, her eyes closed, waiting. I touched my forehead to hers, and leaned against her. "I should go, right?"

She opened her eyes, and cleared her throat. Her hand left mine, and absently touched her lips. "Yeah, OK. We don't want to rush things?"

I didn't actually expect her to agree. A little more resistance would have been nice. I just had to remember that I could play it cool too. "No, we should start at the beginning. I should ask you out. We should, I don't know, go to dinner, maybe take a walk . . ." She was biting her lower lip, obviously calculating how long all that would take. At least that's what I was doing. "I have Yankees tickets for next Saturday."

She stood up, pulling my hands away from her face and her hair as she did so. She didn't move away though, which left me in the awkward position of her standing in front of me, knees centered between mine. If I stood up at this point, at this proximity to her, my _enthusiasm_ would be all to apparent. That is when she leaned over until she was eye to eye with me, well eye to eye to cleavage, which I could not help to notice from this vantage point. This time she was the one to hold my face in her hands, watching me as she came closer and closer. I felt one of her hands tangle into my hair, and then her mouth was only a breath away from mine. She stopped. She darted her tongue out quickly, licking her lips first, then running her tongue slowly across mine. My lips parted involuntarily, and she took it for the invitation that it was. She stole a taste with a quick scoop of her tongue, letting her tongue rub over mine, and then she was already pulling away, grinning at me. My heart was thundering in my chest.

She backed away toward her front door, still grinning mischievously. "You got it. Next Saturday sounds great."

* * *

_The End_

* * *

**Sorry this took so long to finish. I had the dedication paragraph written, but I had no idea where to take it from there. I can't really say I had writer's block, because I finished an entire Castle fic, plus a difficult follow up chapter on a Bones fic I have been working on FOREVER. Thanks for reading and leaving reviews. Good or bad . . . I love 'em. **


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